


The Sounds that Fade Away

by SharkLanceStan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Brain Damage, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Depression, Hair Loss, I chickened out of a completely tragic ending though, I don't know what possessed me to write this horrible thing, I'm sorry if you suffer reading this, IT'S VERY SAD, Langst, M/M, Mute Lance (Voltron), Muteness, Near Death, Not recommended for the easily-upset, Sign Language, Some hope for the future remains, Sort Of, Starvation, Stress, Tinnitus, deafness, guilty keith, hearing loss, klance, klangst, weight loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 20:35:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20606906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkLanceStan/pseuds/SharkLanceStan
Summary: A what-if scenario covering the concept of Lance developing Tinnitus and other hearing issues as a result of the explosion of the robot/crystal and other health issues that come of not connecting well with his team because of it.





	The Sounds that Fade Away

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse for this fic. I normally try to balance out my angst in fics with fluff but this is just pretty much pure unadulterated angst. I ended up chickening out of doing a completely tragic ending as I had been planning because as horrible as I am to him, I do still love Lance and can't quite bring myself to go that far. Anyway it was just a horrible idea bubbling in my brain. I hope you can forgive me for writing it....

The sound of roaring waves, beating on the shore, no water to be seen, not to be expected given the locale.

  
The humming of hundreds of bees droning as one entity, the noise burrowing deep into the conscious, as if the insects themselves reside beneath the layers of bone and flesh and hair, building themselves a colony in the brain.

  
Ringing bells, of all types, from tinkling to clanging, as if an infernal orchestra began to play a cacophonous dirge designed to chafe and irritate the senses to the point of madness.

  
Layers upon layers of noise, and they grow louder each day. More hellish to endure.

  
This is Lance McClain's purgatory. His hell.

  
Ever since he took that dive to save Coran from the explosion of the hacked robot and the crystal.

  
The pod healed his burns but not his ears. Not his mind.

The others don't know. Don't have the time to stop and ask for once 'How are you doing, Lance?'

It doesn't matter.

  
Even if they did it would just be more noise, almost drowned out by the constant ringing, humming, roaring of a million different phantom sounds that are not there, but still keep the young paladin awake at all hours.

  
Still vibrate through his skull, and down to the roots of his teeth and jaw, putting him off his meals.

  
And his team wonders why he can barely concentrate on mission briefings/debriefings. Why his attention wanders during training. Why he makes glaring errors on important missions.

  
Correction. They don't wonder. They assume as usual that it's just Lance being Lance. Just being the goofball. Just being the screw up as usual, that costs everyone important time and effort having to clean up after his fucking mess.

  
And being yelled at, only makes the pain in his perforated eardrums worse. Only hastens the inevitable hearing loss he's dealing with. Now the Tinnitus is the only thing he hears. He's forgotten what his team mates voices sound like.

  
He just sees their lips moving, their gestures of anger, their furrowed eyebrows and accusing stares. The way fingertips bony and sharp poke into his ever shrinking frame.

  
He's still got broad shoulders but as the once toned muscles of his torso shrivel into protruding ribs and shrunken stomach, the line of his spine starting to stand out scarily defined, he starts to feel like a scarecrow hung out alone in an empty field for the crows to peck him to pieces.

  
The padding of their paladin suits somewhat disguises the dire state of his body and dwindling health, but once out of it, once in casual clothes, it's more than obvious that his stamina is failing, that he's wasting away.

  
And he's ashamed of being seen looking this way so he's taken to wearing his under-suit beneath his casual garments, in an effort to hide just how thin he's become. It's not that effective.

  
He's washed out and paler than he should be, his healthy sun-kissed skin on the beaches of Varadero, Cuba, is now drawn and greyish, cheekbones standing out, eyes sunken and hollow, having lost their vivid blue hue, for a darker duller slate grey hue.

  
His hair has begun to fall out in the shower from stress and lack of nutrition. How do his team mates manage to completely miss the obvious deterioration of his form? Do they really care that little for him?

  
He shouldn't blame them, he knows. The war is in the forefront of everyone's mind. It's life or death out here, and the needs of many outweigh the needs of one. The coalition and all the lives of the many planets they've saved are hanging in the balance.

  
Anyone would be distracted when the slightest mistake could cost someone their life. Could cost a lot of people their lives and well-being.

  
Lance thinks about his family back home. They would have noticed this and gotten him help long before things got this bad. Wouldn't they? Or perhaps they're dealing with their own problems too. He doesn't want to be a burden on anyone. So he'll keep suffering in silence.

  
He's gotten good at being silent. As his hearing has almost entirely gone now, even the terrible ringing is lessening. He feels at peace. He can't hear his team, his strength is ebbing by the day, even his connection with his lion seems to be dwindling.

  
That's when his team finally starts to notice. Because he's quiet. Too quiet. He doesn't come to meals anymore. There's nobody there making lame jokes. He fails to attend training one too many times, and concern runs rife through the group.

  
They can't just blame it on goofing around anymore. Something is seriously wrong. The red lion is telling them as much. She tells them she hasn't been able to connect with her paladin for a while, that she can barely feel his life signs.

  
There's a concerted rush to Lance's quarters. The yells of the group fall on deaf ears. Lance has stopped bothering to try and interact with the outside world. He's shut himself off in a cocoon of his own failing body.

  
He's lying in the darkness nearly comatose, dulled sunken eyes glazed over, only the thin reedy breaths he draws any sign that he's still of this plane of existence. 

He doesn't seem to acknowledge their presence, or respond to the shakes of his body, painfully thin limbs flopping around like a rag-doll. The terrible sounds have finally stopped and he's enveloped in a peaceful silence. A darkness that muffles the pain and diminishes the awareness of how lonely he is.

He doesn't respond to their tears, the calls of his name. He isn't connected to that life anymore. His mind has closed off and become fully catatonic.

They try to put him in a healing pod but the damage is done. Lance's mind never comes back fully. Even with round the clock care from a very guilty team and the best alien medical research the coalition can provide, he's left mute and child-like and distant in thoughts. 

Detached, the best way to describe the way the young male behaves, smiling a hollow twisted parody of his old bright life-filled smile. Empty his blue gaze, like someone in a dream.

Red won't allow anyone else to fly with her though, clings insistently to Lance. Lance hasn't the capability to be a paladin in his current state. He doesn't understand things. His mind can't grasp how things work the way they used to. He can't use his bayard, he doesn't comprehend what Voltron is.

He seems to recognise the faces of his team-mates, but being mute cannot utter their names. They try to train him to use signs, rewarding his successes the way you would teach an infant to speak for the first time.

There are mixed levels of success. Lance can understand that they expect him to do certain things. He doesn't exactly grasp why, but he has enough coherence of mind to know that they respond in a positive way when he does certain things. 

He tries to do the things that make his team happy. He seems to bond particularly well with Keith for some reason, who is the most distraught about the loss of the old lively Lance. Who seems the most depressed and blaming himself for absences that lead to this tragedy.

Seeing Keith in pain is somehow unpleasant to Lance. He doesn't exactly know why, but he doesn't like to see his team suffer. Suffering is bad. Why is it bad? He used to know, but now the question seems a mystery to his fractured mind.

When Lance makes a mistake and Keith bites his lip, clenching his fists so tightly that he draws blood, Lance reaches to hold the clenched fist, gently caressing it, clumsily attempting to use the signs he knows to try and soothe the other.

Keith reaches to gently caress the soft flicks of hair that frame the boys ears, running alone the line of still too sharp but thankfully slightly less hollow cheekbones. Hunk has become almost motherly with the boy, feeding him up with any hearty recipes he can concoct. 

Lance has gradually been putting on weight, but the scars of his suffering still show, in the fact that his clothes still hang on him, and the fact that his eyes and smile hold a fragment of lingering pain from everything he went through.

He leans his head into Keith's touch, his gaze focusing for once on the other boy's violet stare, making the signs for 'good' and 'happy' with a simple smile. 

Keith makes a vow then and there that he'll never let Lance be hurt again the way he was. That he'll protect this shattered shell of a boy with his whole being. He will be his guide on the faltering path back to what passes for a normal life these days.

He may never be able to do the things he used to do, but Keith will do everything in his power to ensure Lance has the fullest life possible. That he won't suffer again. That he'll never be alone or in pain again. That he'll never be friendless again.


End file.
